


Words of One Sound

by fractionallyfoxtrot



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Word Games, post Wokingham
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-03
Updated: 2013-12-03
Packaged: 2018-01-03 08:33:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1068320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fractionallyfoxtrot/pseuds/fractionallyfoxtrot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur isn't feeling brilliant. There's nothing brilliant about not being able to say 'brilliant.' Martin tries to cheer him up using only words of one sound.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Words of One Sound

Martin looked up from his logbook when he heard Arthur huff impatiently for the fifth time in as many minutes.

They were alone in the portacabin, Douglas having gone home and Carolyn having gone to have a verbose conversation with the airfield manager on the untimely rise in their rent. Arthur sat in a chair on the other side of the small space with his back to the coffee maker. Concentration lined his face as he struggled to untangle the pile of cables in his lap. The jigsaw puzzles, board games, and word searches he’d brought with him to Martin’s mum’s were stacked up around his feet. Every fifteen minutes or so, an overly sweeping pull on a cable would cause Arthur to kick over one of the boxes, forcing him to stop detangling in order to set it back up.

Martin watched Arthur work for a few seconds before a frustrated groan from the steward prompted him to break the tense silence.

“How are you?” he asked.

“Fine,” Arthur grumbled.

Arthur’s answer was punctuated by the sharp pull of a cable. It didn’t come free; instead, it snagged, the end slipping from Arthur’s grasp as a knot deeper in the pile grew tighter. Arthur huffed again. He retrieved the end of the cable and followed it with his hand, trying to find where it twisted into the pile.

“Well, no, not fine,” he admitted. “Not bad but not fine. The cabl-” Arthur snapped his mouth shut. “They’re still stuck,” he said slowly, giving almost a full stop after every word. “I can’t get them out.”

Arthur slumped back in his chair, letting the pile of cables drop into his lap. He looked, to Martin’s confusion, disheartened. Martin didn’t understand how a tangle of cables could bring down the cheeriest person he knew.

“This game is hard, Skip,” Arthur sighed.

Martin set his pen down, more than a little surprised by Arthur’s admission. Arthur was never very good at the games they played on the flight deck but he usually took it in great stride, smiling through his defeat, often not even noticing his fault until it was pointed out to him. However, his poor performance in ‘Words of One Sound’ had clearly taken its toll on him. Perhaps it was because he’d lost three times before they even got in the car. Perhaps it was because it made Arthur question everything he said.

Perhaps it was because his favorite adjective was suddenly off limits; being unable to say ‘brilliant’ wasn’t particularly brilliant.

“Yeah,” Martin agreed with a nod, “it is.” He glanced over at the closed portacabin door then looked back at Arthur. “You know,” he said, drawing his words out until Arthur looked up at him, “we don’t have the play the game right now. They’re not here.”

“I know,” Arthur mumbled. “But we should prac-” Arthur cut himself off again. He chewed on his lower lip as he searched for a synonym. “Try,” he amended. “We should try. Mum and Doug are so good at it.”

“They’re good at lots of things,” Martin muttered with a roll of his eyes.

Martin realized he wasn’t helping much when Arthur’s gaze fell back to the cables.

“But you’re good at things too,” Martin reminded him. Arthur shook his head, forcing Martin to scramble for support. “Yes, of course you are. You’re good at that game, the one where you point out cars of one... hue.”

Arthur’s brow wrinkled in thought as he mentally translated Martin’s words.

“Oh,” he said as the meaning dawned on him. “But that’s just...” Arthur paused, trying to remember how Martin had phrased it. “That game where you point out cars of one hue.”

“Mad golf,” Martin added. “You’re great at mad golf.”

“I guess but-”

“And tea and... the one that is not tea,” Martin chuckled. A smile started to pull at Arthur’s lips as Martin continued his monosyllabic explanation. “You make the most best teas and the ones that are not tea.”

Arthur grinned at Martin’s praise, the familiar expression lighting up his face.

“Thanks, Skip.”

“You’re wel-”

Arthur’s eyes grew wide as Martin cut himself off just in time. They both looked to the portacabin door as if they expected Carolyn to burst in and catch Martin’s near slip up.

“Don’t wor-” Martin tried again.

Arthur laughed that time. He covered his mouth with his hands but they did little to hide the sound of his mirth. Martin rolled his eyes, feeling none of the annoyance behind the gesture.

He tried one more time. “It’s no trou-”

Arthur broke out into a fit of giggles as Martin threw his arms up in exaggerated exasperation. The pile of cables fell out of his lap, rolling onto the floor and taking out the Connect Four box in its path. Martin laughed too, feeling the tension in the portacabin ease as Arthur returned to his naturally cheerful state.

“I love you,” Martin said, finally expressing his sentiment in the correct amount of syllables.

Arthur’s laughter settled in an instant. He beamed, radiating excitement and joy.

“I love you too, Skip.”

“Brilliant.”


End file.
